The Unexpected Ride

It’s another chaotic Lagos morning. You’ve just ordered a ride-share, silently praying the driver won’t double as a Nigerian crisis yapper or an unsolicited life coach. Your phone pings: “Fela K. has accepted your ride.”

You glance at the profile photo. A shirtless man with a saxophone and a “come-and-try-me” glare. His car? A Peugeot 504 painted in psychedelic colors. You wonder if it’s a joke, but the surge price is outrageous, so you commit.

Moments later, the Peugeot rolls up, puffing like it just climbed Mount Everest. Afrobeat booms from the speakers. Your driver turns, a toothpick dangling from his lips. “Na you?” It’s Fela Anikulapo Kuti.

Vibes on Wheels

The car smells of shea butter and rebellion. “Welcome to my mobile shrine!” Fela declares, adjusting his beads. You quickly realize this isn’t a ride—it’s an experience.

As you navigate Lagos traffic, Fela drops gems between honking at reckless okadas:

  • “Traffic na metaphor for oppression.” He gestures to the clogged road. “If the people no fit move, the country no fit move!”
  • “Music is therapy for go-slow.” He hands you a tambourine and begins a drumbeat on the dashboard. The danfo driver in the next lane joins in with his horn. It’s a full-blown jam session.

Suddenly, a LASTMA officer flags him down. Fela pulls over but doesn’t even roll down the window. Instead, he whips out his saxophone and starts playing “Authority Stealing.” The officer, too stunned to argue, waves him on.

Traffic as Protest

“Why are you driving a ride share, Fela?” you ask.

“Simple,” he replies. “Traffic is the battlefield. Every Lagosian dey fight one kind war—poverty, bad governance, fuel scarcity. If I fit inspire freedom from here, e go spread.”

You realize he’s not just a driver; he’s staging a silent protest from behind the wheel. And his ideas? Outrageously brilliant:

  • “Toll-Free Takeovers.” Drivers stage mini-concerts at toll gates until fees are abolished. “If you no go remove am, we go dance tire!”
  • “Molue Music Mondays.” Turn Lagos’ iconic yellow buses into mobile Afrobeat stages. “Even go-slow go sweet.”
  • “No Convoy Privilege.” Every siren-blaring VIP convoy must obey traffic laws—or face a live sax solo protest.

The Ride of Your Life

As Fela navigates the infamous Third Mainland Bridge, a danfo overtakes him recklessly. Fela doesn’t cuss. Instead, he challenges the driver to a rap battle at the next stoplight. The danfo driver spits fire, but Fela counters with lines about corruption and fuel subsidy fraud. You watch, amazed, as the other drivers cheer and record the showdown.

At one point, a fellow passenger shouts from a nearby keke, “Baba Fela, na you dey drive now?” Fela smirks. “Yes o, revolution dey everywhere—even for traffic.”

The Grand Finale

You finally reach your destination, a little shaken but deeply inspired. Before you step out, Fela turns to you, his voice solemn.

“Remember: traffic no be just ordinary hold-up. E dey remind us say we dey stuck for many things. But we fit move, if we try.”

As he drives off, blasting “Water No Get Enemy,” you realize you didn’t just get a ride—you got a masterclass in resilience, rebellion, and rhythm.

You tell your friends, and they laugh it off—until they see the viral video of a shirtless man playing sax at a tollgate, surrounded by cheering danfo drivers. Lagos traffic will never be the same again.

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